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There is a power in careless confidence. The modern bugman is a bug precisely because he doesn't imagine acting outside of the laws of his time. He thinks they are all right and good. In short, he's a proper cattle and will be milked accordingly. The point is that there was a time when we were somewhat careless and powerful because of that. The world was our oyster. Gold, riches, women, liquour, whatever we wanted, it was ours. We maximized the enjoyment of life itself, and of course, we fought too, because war of past eras wasn't a kike slog through some distant and godless land, but was a proper test of manliness.
But our lives were whole and despite there being comparatively more religion in the world, the people who belonged to those religions were not nearly as moralizing and mawkishly emotional as the fervent believers of today. They aren't free, though they would say they are. They're extremely depressed husks of people who aren't able to have a good time. If they drink, their internalized depression comes out in waves of sloppy tears and choking sentiment. They are miserable.
You can tell when someone is happy when they're absolutely drunk and yet beaming with joy.
